


Ballade of a Great Weariness

by sunsetmog



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-11
Updated: 2005-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which it appears that Elijah has a thing for Dom, but Dom doesn't want him back. Or does he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ballade of a Great Weariness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kraken_wakes](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kraken_wakes).



> Originally posted [here](http://sunsetmog-fics.livejournal.com/19314.html) in April 2005.

**.**

**i.**

**.apple.**

When Elijah sank down beside him, passed him a shiny green apple and winked, Dom felt the typical sinking feeling somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach. Elijah had ignored Dom's hasty reorganisation of the chairs at the edge of the set and had walked right past his own seat in favour of Ian McKellen's (he hadn't even cracked a grin at the newly added scrawled 'sir' in black marker pen above Ian's name, which may or may not be attributable to Orlando). He'd just walked straight onto set, sat down beside Dom and handed him a shiny green apple without so much as a by-your-leave.

Dom narrowed his eyes and sighed. 

[Dom wasn't very fond of green apples. Especially green apples which have achieved their very shiny exterior from one too many rubs against Elijah's grubby, rough, hobbity thigh.]

Elijah just stared at him with wide eyes, waiting for Dom to bite into the green flesh. 

Dom cuffed Elijah round the chin gently, and asked him in a low voice: _what's next, huh? Peeled grapes?_ Dom was just too tired of this. It made him feel uncomfortable. He pretended not to see the flash of something that burnt beneath Elijah's steady, bright gaze, and he pretended that Elijah's sharp jab (right beneath Dom's ribs) was all the response Elijah was willing to give. 

Elijah's puppy dog adoration of Dom has been going on for far too long. Ever since they'd first arrived in New Zealand, Elijah had been finding new and more ingenious ways of securing Dom's attention. At first, Dom couldn't help but appreciate the unwavering attention of Elijah; he couldn't help but enjoy the gifts and the looks and the drinks and repeated warm offers of assistance. But as time wore on, Dom tired of the attention. He got sick of the other guys constantly making jokes, and he got sick of that persistent, dogged look that Elijah got in his eye whenever he overheard. It was the existence of _that_ look that promised Dom that Elijah wasn't going to give up on this any time soon. More than anything, Dom was sick to death of being the primary, daily, on-set joke. It had got to the point where it just wasn't funny any more. Dom had always been the joker, and constantly being the object of other people's amusement had begun to wear upon his nerves. 

Dom took a deep breath and took a bite, the flesh of the apple slightly tart and dry against his tongue.

Elijah scooted closer, his knee nudging Dom's. "Have you seen the script changes, Dom?" he asked, and Dom shook his head. He had—if he hadn't, he'd be in trouble, especially if he let that sort of thing scoot past him this early in the schedule. If Stuart's unexpected departure had taught him anything, it was that all of them were expendable—but Dom knew what would come next if Elijah thought otherwise; Lij would offer to practice. This way he might get to go over them on his own. He's sick to death of saying no to Elijah, watching that flame flex and flicker in the shadow of his irises with every rejection. He's sick to death of the way it makes his stomach clench. Every single time. 

"Do you want me to go through them with you?" Elijah asked, eagerly, and Dom gritted his teeth, reminded of just how _young_ Elijah was. Despite all his experience and his years in the business, Elijah was still just a kid. He was a kid blessed with talent and looks and dedication, sure, but what set him aside had been a series of lucky breaks and choices that had somehow robbed Elijah of his childhood, but not his innocence. Who knew if this shoot was going to be another of those lucky breaks or just one hell of an expensive blip in the history of film making? It would be just Dom's luck if _Lord of the Rings_ ended up being the sort of film that one could mention in the same breath as _Waterworld_ and no one would bat an eyelid.

"Don't worry Lij," Dom said finally, leaving the half-eaten apple (conspicuously) on the arm of his chair. 

Unfortunately, Elijah appeared immune to all visual imagery. "Do you want to come for a drink after we finish tonight then?" he asked, and his gaze was bright and unyielding. 

Looking at Elijah for any period of time was a bit like looking into the sun, Dom realised. He glowed with enthusiasm and shone with hope. This tended to mean that Elijah consistently managed to make Dom feel like a particularly nasty piece of work. Repeatedly turning Elijah down was just like repeatedly kicking ten different types of shite out of a particularly cute puppy, only to have the puppy come back over and over again, tail wagging and looking reproachful. Elijah wouldn't take no for an answer. 

"A date?" Dom said, uncertainly. He picked up the apple again, rubbing it once against his thigh before taking another bite. 

Elijah nodded. "Come on a date with me," he said, and his mouth curled into a smile. "Let me take you out."

Dom sighed. There was a part of him that really wanted to say yes; a part that wanted to push the chairs to one side and just say _let's go_. But then there was another part of him, one which knew it was stupid to start dating a co-star; particularly a male, famous, practically-but-not-quite-underage co-star. For someone else, those factors would have been an incentive to go for it, but Dom had concerns. This wasn't any normal shoot, this was months and months and months and months. This was a fellow hobbit. This all meant... no. Hell, Dom didn't even date. Encouraging Elijah just wasn't a good idea. But having Elijah hanging round all the time, offering to rub his shoulders (after a long day with a short sword in his hand) was wearing down Dom's resistance. He had to do something to get Elijah to drop this ridiculous idolatry, before Dom did something stupid—like accept. But Dom knew that he wasn't worth this much doe-eyed adoration. Sod that— _no one_ was worth this sort of admiration. Dom's pedestal was elevated to a height where he couldn't even see the ground any more.

"I don't think so, Lij." He said finally. He stared down at his script, trying not to notice Elijah's eyes burning into him. His fingers scratched at his hobbit trousers, the material rough against his hand.

"Why not?" Elijah asked, finally, about the same moment that the hairs on the back of Dom's neck started to rise, and the red blush that had been threatening to overtake him ever since Elijah perched down next to him peeked his way out of his Merry costume. "Don't tell me you don't like me, I won't believe you. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking."

Dom couldn't help but agree. Bugger. 

"Just say yes," Elijah pleaded. "One date and then I'll leave you alone if you want me too."

Dom felt his resistance waver. He swallowed the last bite of the apple, and nodded. "Ok."

"Ok?" Elijah grinned excitedly, his enthusiasm palpable. 

Dom nodded. "Ok."

  
**.ii.**   


  
**.chocolate buttons.**   


"Is it true?" Billy asked, collapsing into his make-up chair with a loud _oomph_ and a wide smile. He helpfully propped his hairy hobbit feet onto the stool and reached for his book, waiting for Dom to finish his turn with the Weta make-up artist. They were one artist down this week so they were all having to wait in line at the end of the day. Billy shuffled on his seat, trying to get comfortable.

"Is _what_ true?" Dom asked, exasperatedly, unplugging his headphones and staring pointedly across at Billy. He wiggled his toes and Maria—who was currently unpicking glue from Dom's feet—smacked him gently on his ankle. "Sorry," Dom apologised, fully aware that it never did to piss of the people who were in charge of his appearance. One day it would be an extra mole, the next a small unsightly scar, by the end of filming he would look like he'd been smacked in the face with a brick. 

Billy shook his head, grinning and winking. "Don't act the innocent with me, young man. It won't wash. You've got a date with Elijah."

Dom closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. "Is there anyone left who doesn't know, or is the entire cast and crew in on the intricacies of my love life?" 

"I didn't," Maria offered, from somewhere down beside his instep. 

Dom grinned, shaking his head. "Thanks love," he told her, before grumbling "Can you not keep _anything_ a secret round here?" and trying not to make eye contact with a madly grinning Billy.

Billy shrugged. "Elijah's an open book. He's never looked so damn happy." 

Dom sank lower in his chair, ignoring Maria's pointed stare. This was going to be a fucking disaster. _One date and then I'll leave you alone_ , Elijah had said. Fat bloody chance. Dom should never, ever, ever have said yes. Elijah thought he stood a chance with Dom, and Dom was going to break it to him in the most excruciating manner possible. On a date. A date Elijah had been aiming towards for weeks. 

"What made you finally say yes?" Billy asked, looking a bit more serious. 

Dom closed his eyes again. "He's persuasive." He said, finally, quietly, "Had to get him off my case." 

Billy narrowed his eyes. "Watching the two of you the last few weeks has been one of the funniest things I've seen in a hell of a long time," he admitted. "Lij following you round like a little lost puppy, you looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights. But it doesn't mean that you can just shove it in his face like that. It's not fair, Dom." He shrugged. "Just tell him you're not interested, mate." 

"I've told him," Dom said, and he rolled his shoulders, trying to dissipate some of the tension in his back. "He won't believe me." 

Sean—who'd stumbled into the trailer a moment earlier, green cloak wrapped tightly around him to fight off the ensuing cold - raised an eyebrow. "It's funny, that."

"Who asked you?" Dom asked, rudely. Maria grabbed his ankle in a iron grip to still him, and Dom stammered out an apology. She loosened her grip. 

Sean shrugged his shoulders. "I just think Elijah's got a point." 

Billy laughed. "What, that Dom fancies him? You've got to be kidding me."

Sean shrugged again, throwing a sideline glance towards Dom. "Yeah, well. I just call 'em like I see 'em." 

Dom shook his head, trying not to blush. "You've got it all wrong, mate." 

"See?" Billy added. 

"I don't mind being proved wrong," Sean said, sinking down into his chair, and deliberately speaking to Billy and not Dom, "I just don't see why Dom would agree to go on a date with someone he clearly isn't attracted to, especially when that person is one of his closest friends and we've all got to work together for the next god-knows how long." He finished. Pointedly. 

Dom's face burnt and his fingers shook. Maria—gently—placed a hand on his ankle. "It's alright," she said, reassuring, "You're all done. We'll see you in the morning."

"You're not hanging around?" Billy asked, flicking through his book until he came to the dog-eared page he'd last got to. "We could go to the pub."

"No... I" he blushed. "I've got to get ready," he finished, finally. 

Billy raised his eyebrows. "It's _tonight_? That was quick." 

Dom shrugged, and muttered something that sounded a little like _better get it over and done with_ under his breath. 

Billy shook his head. "Dom. Really. Don't fuck things up worse than they already are. He's just a kid." 

"He's _not_ a kid." Sean sighed. "He doesn't need looking after. He just needs your respect." 

There were worse things than pretending you didn't have feelings for your younger, more attractive, more famous co-star, Dom realised as he stumbled out of the trailer. Much, much worse. You could pretend you didn't have feelings for Elijah for the sake of the continued harmony of the cast and crew and yet _still_ manage to piss off every single one of your friends on the way. Fuck. 

~

Elijah turned up right on the dot of seven thirty. 

It was possibly the only time he'd ever been on time the whole time that Dom had known him. It was also possible that the reason that Dom was far from ready was something to do with him _expecting_ Elijah to be late, but it was equally possible that Dom had just spent too long in front of the wardrobe, going over and over the situation in his head, each time with increasing dismay at the extent of the damage that tonight could cause. 

Except; Dom liked Elijah. Elijah liked Dom. So far, so (surprisingly) good. And remarkably simple.

He'd sighed, running his fingers through his still damp hair. He'd got home just before seven and had jumped straight in the shower, feeling the searing heat of the jet and suffering it as some sort of punishment for getting himself into this mess. Elijah was just a kid. A stupid, enthusiastic, mildly attractive _kid_. Who could no more _really_ fancy Dom than Dom could contemplate continuing seeing Elijah after this one terrible, portentous evening. He'd come out of the bathroom red faced and pissed off; angry at himself and everybody else and most of all, Elijah, for not having the sense to give up when he knew he was chasing after a dead horse. Or flogging an animal that had long ago bolted from the stable. Or _something_. And then Elijah had turned up, ringing the doorbell and smiling so hard that Dom had briefly entertained the worry that Elijah's face might crack with the pressure. 

Dom answered the door in his trousers and the nearest (grubbiest) t-shirt he could find. Elijah didn't say anything; he just marched past Dom and took up residence in his living room, sitting down and smoothing out his neatly ironed shirt and tie. 

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea, Elijah." Dom started, hovering nervously in the doorway.

Elijah smiled pleasantly. "Shut the fuck up, Dom, and go and get changed."

Dom tried again. "Really, Lij, listen, what if this doesn't work? We could go join the others in the pub and-"

"Didn't you hear me?" Elijah's voice was dangerously quiet. "Go and change your t-shirt, else we'll miss our table." 

"Lij..."

"You promised me," Elijah said, a tad desperately. " _One date_. You promised me that. Then you can bail."

Dom sighed, and clenched his fists. He'd heard the flicker of pain that laced Elijah's words, seen that dart of something fire-like in his eyes. He closed his eyes briefly. "Alright," he said quietly. "I won't be a minute."

Dom wasn't nervous. He _wasn't_ just like Elijah wasn't pissed at him for ruining the evening _already_. Dom shook his head and pulled a shirt off a coat hanger. He looked like an idiot, but right now he didn't care. He cared that Elijah was sat in his living room, thinking that Dom was some kind of shit who wouldn't even give him a chance. He cared that all this time the guys had been laughing at Elijah, teasing him and bugging him for doggedly following Dom around, making fun of him for going all out for someone who wasn't even interested. He cared that Elijah had known _all this time_ how Dom felt; Elijah had seen how Dom looked at him and he'd never blamed Dom for not once bothering to stand up for him or stop the teasing. 

Dom felt like an utter shit. 

Elijah had left him a note attached to his windscreen, under the wiper, that just said: _Trust me. I'll make you change your mind. Be ready at seven thirty._ There had been a packet of chocolate buttons (Dom's favourites, God knows where Elijah had got them from, or how he even _knew_ ) on his bonnet, held in place with a grey stone. Dom had found them—the note and the chocolate - after he'd stumbled out of the make up trailer and into the car park; he'd read the note through twice before scrunching it in his fist and throwing it onto the passenger seat, slamming on the stereo and pretending not to care as he drove home with shaking hands. 

[He'd eaten the chocolate in rushed mouthfuls, handfuls at a time, seconds before he'd put the shower on and reddened his skin with guilt]

Dom put his face in his hands and groaned. _Give it a go_ , he told himself, _you owe him that_. 

With a sigh, he headed for the living room. He paused, watching Elijah hunched over the coffee table, playing with a coin, spinning it across the wood. "Will I do?" he asked finally, breaking Elijah's concentration and indicating his own, new dark blue shirt. 

Elijah turned around and smiled at the sight of Dom. His eyes danced. "You look good," Elijah told him, and Dom smiled weakly. 

"Come on then," Dom said, "Let's go." 

Elijah nodded, and led the way.

  
**.iii.**   


  
**.sled.**   


They drove away from Dom's house in an uncomfortable and unexpected silence, with Elijah at the wheel and Dom hunched low in the passenger seat, sinking lower and lower with every passing street light and parked car. Elijah watched him out of the corner of his eye, his brow furrowed and his gaze dulling. Leaning over, he switched his stereo on and ejected the mini disc before it could play, chucking it onto the back seat and replacing it with another - full of loud, thrashy guitar chords and inaudible screaming - before turning it up so loud Dom winced. Equally abruptly, Elijah switched it off again, before sighing loudly and smoking two cigarettes in a row out of the window without saying a word. Elijah was suddenly angry and cold and oh-so fucking grown up, and it was enough to throw Dom into confusion and disarray.

Dom was freezing cold and shivering, pissed off and scared; he was trying not to stare across at Elijah and wonder what it would be like to feel the burn of Elijah's skin beneath his hands. He clenched his fist, wishing that he was anywhere but here, doing anything but having to deal with a furious, desperate, indefatigable, beautiful Elijah, who looked at him through a fire that crackled with need and flickered with desire and want and lust.

_Hell._

Dom was _trying_ to do the right thing. He was trying to do what he thought was best, what he thought was most conducive to creating an effective working environment for them all. He was doing all this for Sean and Billy and Elijah and the others, who shouldn't have to sit through the intricacies of Dom and Elijah's failing relationship. How could they all be expected to work together when Dom and Elijah had just had a row or broken up or something equally strained? People shouldn't have relationships with their co-stars, it just wasn't on. Their friends would find themselves having to take sides. It wasn't _fair._

So why was everyone having a go at him for trying so hard not to let it happen? He had done his best, he had spent weeks shrugging off even Elijah's most dedicated attempts at seduction. He had ignored it when he'd caught Elijah staring at him, with those eyes that burnt bright and glittered with intention. He'd said nothing when the others pointed and laughed and made room for a drunken, leaning Elijah on the bench beside Dom, he'd just made his excuses and headed to the bar. He'd refused Elijah's repeated offers of assistance and instead had attempted new and ingenious routes around the set to stop Elijah springing out from behind some well-placed trailer, with chocolate or a can of coke, coffee or the promise of a joint. He'd _tried_ not to make a big thing of it; he'd tried not to acknowledge Elijah's determination and dedication to their eventual alliance, pleading ignorance in the face of all evidence to the contrary. He'd tried it all, including flirting with other boys - and girls - until Sean had taken him by the shoulder and frogmarched him into a darkened corner, telling him to stop rubbing poor Elijah's nose in it. 

Dom had tried everything he could think of to put Elijah off. Even to the extent of involving Billy in his desperate plan, pleading with him to put a stop to any of Elijah's crazy ideas - which tended to include Elijah getting Dom _alone_ somewhere, be it in the car on the route to the beach, or the supermarket before heading around to Viggo's for a barbecue, or in the trailer after everyone else had finished for the day. And Billy had cuffed Dom round the head with a grin and a soft _you daft idiot_ , and promised faithfully (if amusedly) to do his bit for _Operation Free Dom_. 

And yet, despite all that, Elijah hadn't given up. He'd shaken his head when Billy had had a quiet word, offering to set him up with one of the production team who had a penchant for the _Smashing Pumpkins_. He'd just looked beyond Billy - to where Dom was nonchalantly fiddling with his game boy about ten feet away - and said _no thanks_. When Sean had wondered out loud if Elijah was getting in too deep, Elijah had merely shaken his head and said _I don't think so_. And all that time - **all that time** \- Elijah had been watching Dom with dogged determination and stars in his eyes. And each time, Dom had shivered and stopped himself from marching straight across the set (or the pub, or the beach, or that one time they all went sledging) and kissing Elijah right there and then. Until that last time, when he gave in and his carefully constructed walls fell like dominos with one, single, apple-green touch, and he'd found himself agreeing to come out with Elijah. 

Dom couldn't explain how all that erstwhile dedication had got him _here_. After going through all those weeks of distraction and avoidance for the sake of the cast's combined sanity, he'd given in too damn easily. He'd said _ok_ , for heaven's sake. That didn't even sound like **no**. But all the same, here he was, in Elijah's car, half way down the main road on his way to a date god-knows where, with a pale and grim-faced Elijah hanging on to the steering wheel with white knuckles and sweaty palms.

"Are you cold?" Elijah said eventually, in a low voice, stubbing out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray and making to wind up the window. 

"I'm fine," Dom told him, and went back to staring out into the night, huddling down into his jacket. He almost thought he heard Elijah muttering _coulda fooled me_ under his breath. 

Dom wrapped his jacket tighter around himself, pressing his cold hands into the warm space under his arms, and wondered how he'd managed to get it all so wrong. How he'd managed to underestimate _Elijah_ so badly. 

"Don't you want to know where we're going?" Elijah persisted doggedly, grinding the gears and making Dom flinch as they turned off the main road, heading up towards the hills and away from the city. 

Dom let out a deep breath and attempted to concentrate on the matter in hand rather than his own ineptitude and apparent dismissal of Elijah as _just a kid_. This strained, angry, pent-up guy sat beside him, with a face like an angel, had just a few hours ago been nothing more than a teenager with a crush. "You told me to trust you," Dom told him finally, aware of how petulant and child-like he sounded. He picked at the fraying fibres at the edge of the car seat, feeling the stiff velour beneath his fingers. 

Elijah sniffed. "Aren't you even _curious_?" 

_Of course_. "I'm trying," Dom said, and his voice trembled. He stuffed his hands deep into his jacket pockets, and slumped down further into his seat. He was suddenly icy cold.

"Trying to be curious, or trying to get through the evening alone and with your masculinity intact?" Elijah shook his head. "Shit, Dom, you're a cunt, you know that?" 

_I know. I'm sorry_. "I'm here, aren't I?" Dom shot back, and he shifted in his seat, the seatbelt suddenly uncommonly tight against his chest. 

"Yeah, and I can't figure out if that makes you more of a cunt or just less of a man." Elijah said fiercely, winding his window down again and letting in a harsh draft that whistled around Dom's ears. 

Sean had been right all along, Dom realised with a start, as ice-cold sweat peppered his brow and his chest tightened. It had all been a waste, all of those plans to outwit a kid with a teenage crush. He'd been going about it all _wrong_. 

"You know the worst thing?" Elijah continued, braking savagely to avoid a rabbit on the road, "That I never would have kept trying if it wasn't for the fact you're completely in love with me. You've behaved like such a twat."

Dom froze. "What did you just say?" he said, tightly.

Elijah swung the car onto the grass verge at the side of the road. "Shit, Dom. You _twat_." 

_Not that bit_.

"I've seen you looking at me," Elijah went on, conversationally, desperate, "you're always watching me. You get this- this _look_ in your eyes." 

_I'm not. I don't. Do I_? Dom struggled, relentlessly picking threads from the seat cover. It wasn't true. This was all one-sided; Dom was merely battling an attraction. This wasn't love. 

"You _are_ always looking," Elijah reiterated, shifting on the seat and staring out of the window. "And you make out like I'm the only one in love here, like I'm the only one with a problem... when it's you just as much as me."

"It's not though..." Dom told him, a hint of wonder underlying his tone.

"Shut _up_ ," Elijah said desperately, "Just shut up, Dom. There's no one here to pretend to, it's just me, and I already know. Just stop pretending."

"I'm not-"

"Fucking hell, _stop it_." Elijah pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. "Please, Dom. Just give it a go. You said you'd come out with me tonight, you said you'd give this - us - one date. Can't you just give me that?"

Dom swallowed. He didn't understand how they'd got here - parked up by the side of the road miles out the city, Elijah telling him things he didn't know were true or not, Elijah's hand hovering uncertainly over his thigh - and he sure as hell didn't know what he was feeling. Dom didn't know if he was in love with Elijah; he only knew that he'd been fighting feelings for him for weeks now. He felt confused, baffled, disorientated. All this time... had it been the two of them, playing stupid, hurtful games that scratched at lines drawn in the sand? "I don't know," he said finally. 

"Christ, Dom-" Elijah shook his head, exasperated and upset. 

Dom stopped him, pressing the palm of his hand to Elijah's forearm. "No," he said slowly. "I mean... I don't know if what you're saying is right." His brain felt foggy and heavy, the truth somewhere a little out of reach. Elijah's shirt itched beneath his palm. "I-" he stopped. Elijah watched him, unblinking, as Dom struggled to find the words. As he struggled to find a way to make things _right_. "We'll go out." Dom said eventually, "we'll have food, and we'll be nice, and I'll try. Is that enough for now?" 

Elijah shrugged. "I don't know." He relented. "Maybe."

"Ok." Dom took a deep breath. His foot tapped an unremitting rhythm against the mat, his leg shaking. "Ok. So - uh - where are we going?" _Love? Attraction? Desire? Confusion?_

Elijah looked around him in surprise. "Here. Dom, we're here. Don't you remember?"

Dom looked around him. _Love_? They were parked at the bottom of a hillside, tall trees marking out a gentle slope from top to bottom. Across the road, a few metres further on, stood an old cottage with a sign lazily hanging outside. _Just attraction_? He narrowed his eyes, not recognizing the scenery in the hazy dusk. "Oh god," he said suddenly, "that restaurant. We ate there; all of us, after Orlando made us go sledging. Except it was light then, and we were coming from the other direction."

Elijah smiled. "Yeah. Cos Orlando said everyone went sledging in December, d'you remember?" 

"Even though there was no snow and we were all in shorts," Dom grinned. _Desire. Oh god, Desire_. His smile faltered. "God knows where he managed to get that sled from." His voice wavered, and he gripped Elijah's wrist convulsively. 

Elijah looked at him, startled. "Are you ok?" he asked. 

Dom swallowed. "Yeah," he said, trying to smile, "Come on. Let's give this a go."

Love, attraction, desire, confusion; they all boiled down to the same thing eventually.

  
**.iv.**   


  
**.paintbox.**   


This could, quite possibly, be the worst idea _ever_. It didn't matter whether or not Dom was actually head over heels in love with Elijah, because Dom didn't care. It made absolutely no difference to the fact that you _shouldn't_ date your co-stars and you shouldn't put your friends in difficult, awkward, complicated positions by even considering doing so. He didn't care if Elijah had feelings for him, or even if he had feelings back; this was about the film, the shoot—his _career_ even. Fuck it up and that was that. There was more resting on this than just some fling with a fellow hobbit, even if said fellow hobbit was Elijah Wood—former child star and one of the most electric, addictive people Dom had ever met—it was important to weigh up all the pros and cons.

Dom wasn't doing any of this to try and hurt anybody. He _wasn't_. He just knew this wasn't necessarily the best idea, regardless of Elijah's persuasive, dogged attitude. He may have agreed to have food; he may be half way to agreeing that there was a lot more to how Dom felt than he would previously have admitted to, but he sure as hell wasn't anywhere close to agreeing that Elijah and he were a viable option. Regardless of how hot Elijah looked in his suit, with that nervous, playful grin plastered across his face. _Regardless._

Dom sighed confusedly, and followed Elijah down off the grass verge and into the restaurant car park. "Couldn't we have parked _here_ , like any normal person?" he asked, looking down in dismay at his muddy shoes and wet trouser cuffs. "Instead of way up a hill in three feet of mud?"

He was rewarded by Elijah shooting him a narrow eyed glare over his shoulder. A ghost of a smile flitted across his face, his eyes twinkling. "If you hadn't been fucking me off, Monaghan, we could have parked wherever the hell you'd have liked to."

"Everything is always _my_ fault," Dom muttered under his breath, trying to lose some of the mud from his shoes in between the gravel and the tarmac. He made a ridiculous picture, smart suit and muddy trousers, muttering to himself in the middle of a tiny car park in the dark. "Blame me, why don't you."

Elijah couldn't seem to help it. He grinned, stopping and facing Dom and laughing, "Yeah," he said, and he raised his eyebrows. "If you'd only be willing to accept blame all of the time we'd _all_ be a lot better off."

Dom narrowed his eyes and smiled, scraping the last of the mud off onto a handily placed rock. He didn't understand how they could flit from anger to humour and onwards so damn quickly, without any real notice given. He supposed it was one of the best things about their friendship—it's all encompassing nature and its boundaries that waved and shifted with each day and each mood. "You get really _funny_ when you get your own way, don't you?" 

"It's not my own way, Dominic," Elijah explained patiently, "it's the way of truth and light and goodness and stuff. Your way was the way of the dark. I am of the light, you the dark. See?" he pointed at Dom with one stubby finger. "Me hobbit, you orc. Me beautiful, you stinking creature of the night."

Dom shook his head, and cuffed Elijah good-naturedly around the shoulder. This was the relationship he was comfortable with; would it still exist after tonight? Worry clouded his vision for a moment, before, "Who are you calling an orc, mate? And _stinking_? Have you smelt your trainers?" 

Elijah raised an eyebrow. "My shoes smell _fine_ ," he said primly. 

Dom smirked, wiping his muddy hands on the inside of his jacket. "Yeah. Of course they do. If _fine_ means that whenever you take them off, everyone within a five mile radius is knocked unconscious."

"You can talk!" Elijah spluttered, laughing. He punched Dom on the shoulder with an open fist, laughing as Dom pulled away in mock-pain. "When was the last time you washed your wetsuit?" 

Dom swallowed. Shit. He didn't know what had happened, but the air was suddenly taut; buzzing with something powerful and hot. Elijah stared at him, eyes wide. _Love, attraction, desire, confusion_. They were all there, all those emotions flying around inside of Dom's head. He was reaching for them, grabbing them, desperately trying to attach the label to the feeling, but it was just too hard. He still couldn't decide what was best for them.

It wasn't as if Dom had spent the whole of the shoot so far sending clandestine looks in Elijah's direction. He hadn't woken up every day with the sound of Elijah's name on his lips, nor fallen asleep with a naked dancing Elijah plaguing his thoughts. It hadn't been a sudden, immediate realisation that there was something about Elijah that made Dom feel uneasy and confused. It had been gradual; it had started with appreciation and admiration and had faded into something _more_. Dom had begun to see the aesthetic appeal of Elijah's lithe form; he'd seen the glitter of his bright eyes and the twist of that wicked smile, and something had begun to take on form in the recesses of his mind. 

And now, Elijah was demanding that he give that form a name.

Dom shrugged. "Come on," he said heavily, indicating the entrance and breaking the tension, "let's go sit down."

The restaurant was just how Dom remembered it; low beams, huge tie-dyed wall hangings and dusty empty bottles lining high, wide shelves. Considering its location (five miles from the nearest suburb and on a road which went precisely nowhere), it was relatively full. It's owners were a couple of ex-hippies, who—bored of wandering round the world on their own wits—had started to cook for their friends in return for gifts from foreign climes. This early, pre-capitalism (and pre- the necessity of paying taxes and outgoings) direction was evident on the walls and in the cupboards and on the shelves—rocks and bottles and carvings and pictures nestled alongside each other, fighting for precedence on the overflowing shelves. The restaurant's fame had spread, and soon people were willing to drive the few miles out of town to sample its food and wander around the rooms, poking the objects on display and asking inane questions of the owners. Tonight, however, the owners weren't to be seen (although the last time they'd all visited, they'd sat down with them, drinking and discussing Tolkien till well after midnight), but Elijah had made sure he had two passes to the _Rings_ set for them, and in return the waiter gave them a quiet, dark table in the back corner in between a giant spider plant and a dusty carved totem pole. He brought them wine—which Elijah refused, and Dom accepted with a grimace and a half-smile. 

Dom sighed. "I'm still not sure about this, you know." He said, suddenly, ten minutes later, after their soup had arrived and the waiter had left them with a huge plate of freshly baked heavy bread. 

Elijah shook his head. "For fucks sake, Dom-"

"Shut _up_. I'm not talking about how we feel, or how you think I feel-" Elijah muttered something that sounded like _I don't think, I **know**_ "-but whether this—us—is actually a good idea or not."

Elijah rolled his eyes. "Will you just give it up and admit you're enjoying being out with me?"

Dom bit his lip. "Look, Lij." He stopped, and broke a piece of bread into tiny pieces, crumbling it over his rapidly-cooling soup. "I'm enjoying myself, ok? In between the yelling and the awkward silences and the mud, I'm here, with you, and that's _good_. But stop pushing me to make some sort of decision when I'm not ready." Dom sighed; Elijah's dogged determination was enviable but misplaced. 

Elijah nodded, but didn't say anything. 

"And," Dom continued, "Everyone's telling me I've behaved like such a shit, and I _haven't_."

"What do you call pretending you didn't even like me then?" Elijah shot back, unable to stop himself, accidentally dropping his spoon into his soup. 

Dom swallowed, and his breath caught in his throat. He wasn't even sure what flavour the soup was, having barely tasted a mouthful. "Practical," he said quietly, and Elijah's eyes widened. Dom shivered.

Elijah put down his glass of water with a heavy thump. "Look, you think you're doing everyone a favour by not putting them through our apparently inevitable Great Relationship Break-up, but what the hell do you think we're doing to them now? This is no more making them choose sides than actually seeing each other would be." He shook his head, pushing his untouched bowl away and folding his arms. The dull light glinted off his watch face, blinding Dom momentarily. 

Dom sighed, rubbing his eyes. "It's alright for you," he explained eventually, his voice quiet, "you've already got your career. This is a real chance for me, and I'm scared I'm gonna fuck it all up by messing around."

Elijah's gaze softened. "You've got to stop worrying, Dom." He sighed. "You're a good actor. You're not going to fuck this up. And you're letting this get to you too much; it's eating you up. You've gotta give this—us - a chance."

Dom's knee brushed Elijah's under the table. Unnerved, he pulled away quickly, banging his leg against the table by accident. Elijah smiled, and waited, until Dom cautiously brought his knee closer to Elijah's once more. "It's not just about you and me," Dom said, "There's other people and other things to think about." 

Elijah pressed his knee to Dom's. "Stop thinking about the other people, and the other things, and just concentrate on me for a bit."

There was a long pause, before Dom smiled. "Selfish bugger," he said, and Elijah let out a long breath. 

"Too right I am." Elijah laughed, avoiding Dom's eye, "Now pay me some attention."

Dom nodded slowly. "Ok."

~

"I got you a present." Elijah said eventually, quietly. 

Dom looked up from his coffee. "A present?" he asked, and he cupped the mug harder, the pads of his fingers hot from the contact. "You didn't have to do that."

Elijah shrugged. "I know. I-" he paused. "I wasn't going to give it to you. I just bought it... in case."

Dom took a deep breath. Nothing about this evening had turned out the way he'd thought it would. It had been a succession of blind corners and unlit underpasses and dark, narrow lanes; at the end of the evening, blinking shyly in the new, pale light, was Elijah. Dom wondered if he'd ever really seen him before, or whether he'd always based his perceptions on assumptions weighed down by too much introspection and not enough reality. "In case of what?" he asked, and he picked up the tiny packet of dark, crystallised biscuits that came with the after dinner drinks and attempted to shred the packet with shaking fingers. 

Elijah pulled a long, thin package out of his inside jacket pocket. It was wrapped in a brown paper bag, tacked at the top with a short piece of sticky tape. "In case it came to this," Elijah told him, somewhat enigmatically, pushing the parcel across the tablecloth. 

Dom swallowed and reached across for it, feeling the cool sting of metal as he ripped across the paper and let the contents fall with a soft clatter onto the table. It was a long, thin, black metal tin—like a pencil case only slimmer. Nothing on the outer layer belied what was inside. Dom shot a glance across at Elijah, who was watching him eagerly, his lip caught between his teeth. 

"Go on," Elijah told him, nudging the tin closer. "Open it." 

Dom nodded. The catch was loose, and he pulled open the lid with ease. Inside were two rows of little squares of colour, each square with its own tiny lid. It was a paintbox. Dom looked up, quizzical. "Paints?" he asked, wondering _why._

Elijah smiled, and blushed red. "Body paints," he explained. "Sixteen different colours." 

Dom laughed. "For me?" he asked, and was amazed. 

"I know you can't help but draw all over yourself," Elijah explained, his fingers twisting. "All those sharpies, all that ink."

Dom nodded, and reached out a hand to stem Elijah's frantically intertwining fingers. 

"The ink seeps into your bloodstream, you know," Elijah told him, watching Dom's hand with wide eyes, "some of them can give you septicaemia."

"How do you know all this?" Dom asked, in wonderment. His hand closed over Elijah's. 

Elijah immediately stilled. "I just... _do_." He blushed again, and for a moment he was just an eighteen year old guy who'd done something nice and didn't know how to explain it. "These ones are natural," he said, embarrassed, "no chance of blood poisoning."

Dom laughed softly, his exhalation quiet, and he opened his mouth to say _thank you_. 

"Don't say it," Elijah said suddenly, "Please. I just- I saw them and I thought of you. Nothing else. It's not like you got me anything."

Dom nodded. "Ok." But then... "Well. I did sort of make you a CD." He paused, "I was going to make one for everyone, see, so that's kind of the same," he added quickly, staring at the paints in wonderment. 

Elijah narrowed his eyes. "You were going to make one for everyone?" 

Dom looked down at the table. "Well, um, yeah. I suppose so," 

"How many did you make?" Elijah questioned him, a smile playing on his lips. 

Dom wrinkled his nose. "One."

"Who for?" 

"You," Dom said quietly. 

"Are you ever going to get around to making one for anyone else?"

"Probably not," Dom admitted, with a blush. 

Elijah shook his head and stirred his coffee, adding another sugar before asking, "What's on it?" 

Dom took a big gulp of too-hot coffee. His throat burned and his eyes watered before he continued, "Everything British you've missed out on. Comedy number ones, Eurovision entries, TV theme tunes and the duets of Jason Donovan and Kylie Minogue."

Elijah stirred in a second sugar, and added a little milk. "You've made me a CD of all your most embarrassing musical hits?"

"Yep," Dom proclaimed proudly. "You'll _love_ it." He blew on his coffee before taking another gulp.

"Can we go?" Elijah asked, unexpectedly. He'd put down his coffee without tasting it, an action completely unlike him.

"Why?" Dom asked, suddenly worried. 

"I want to listen to my CD." Elijah shrugged, and fumbled for his wallet, not looking at Dom. 

Dom blushed. "You do?" he took a last gulp of his coffee, "But it's at my place."

"We can pick it up on the way." Elijah waved at the waiter, who nodded and went to get the bill. 

Dom narrowed his eyes. "On the way?" he asked. 

Elijah grinned, and handed over his card to the waiter, ignoring Dom's protestations to pay half. "I thought I told you to trust me?"

Dom nodded, staring down at the tablecloth. His thumb grazed the cold metal of the paintbox, and he sighed. His mind was working fast, weighing up the dedication he needed to put into the film to appease his inner critics, with the need he felt to put a little of that aside and just _go for it_ with Elijah. As the waiter brought back Elijah's card, with a pen and a couple of peppermints, Dom decided what he was going to do. Like Elijah said, he was going to give this one date. One proper, no worries, give-it-your-all _date_. Even if he was starting rather late in the evening. 

Standing up, he reached across the table for Elijah's hand. "Come on," he said, and his voice burnt low, "Let's go pick up that CD, then we can go wherever you want us to."

"Dom?" Elijah's eyes widened at the sight of Dom's outstretched fingers. 

Dom smiled self-consciously. "It's ok," he said, "I trust you, now you've gotta trust me."

"Ok," Elijah nodded, and his fingers found Dom's. He had hot hands, Dom realised, squeezing slightly. In his other hand, the paintbox's cool metal began to warm beneath his touch.

  
**.v.**   


  
**.spitfire.**   


Dom had never really thought about how self-conscious it made you, holding someone's hand. It wasn't _just_ a simple graze-touch-hold; it was a statement—a _public_ statement—of affection. Holding Elijah's hand challenged people's assumptions and beliefs; no longer were Dom and Elijah merely two guys out for some food after a long day at work, they were two men holding hands in a public place. With people _watching_ them and drawing their own conclusions. And Dom couldn't help but notice. He couldn't help but blush hard and red as he led Elijah out through the porch and into the car park.

The boundaries had shifted at some point in the past few minutes, and Dom might have been brave, but that didn't necessarily mean that he was in control. With just a simple touch of palms, everything had changed. He couldn't keep on pretending any longer that it was only Elijah who wanted this; Dom knew that it wasn't _Elijah_ hanging on for dear life—it was Dom clutching Elijah's hand until the skin whitened and Elijah was forced to tell Dom to tone down the grip. Dom blushed, realising he was some way close to snapping the bones in Elijah's hand, and thanked the heavens that it was too dark for Elijah to see the full extent of Dom's embarrassment as he pulled away. 

Night had fallen whilst they were eating, and the tops of the trees creaked in the wind, casting ominous shadows across the road. At the edge of the car park—as Dom stumbled across the muddy ridge and started down the road towards Elijah's car—he caught his ankle on a pothole and staggered. He swore under his breath, and squinted into the darkness to try and make out exactly where Elijah had parked the car. If Dom had been in a better mood, he would have teased Elijah—the car wasn't so much parked, so much as dumped or abandoned, - but with embarrassment creeping through his veins and desperation pounding in his chest, Dom was hard pressed to find the energy. He was tired and embarrassed and confused; he didn't know what the hell he was doing out here in the dark, acting like a teenager on his first date. This was Elijah, for fuck's sake. Best friend. Object of affection. Colleague. Possible cause of much chaos in Dom's life. But wannabe _boyfriend_? He shook his head and speeded up. Nothing was making sense for Dom tonight, and he didn't want to stay still long enough for it to start. 

"Hey," Elijah jogged the couple of steps to catch up and grabbed Dom's arm, stopping him in his tracks with a tight arm hold. Elijah self-consciously loosened his grip and smiled uncertainly, the expression no more than a shadow in the murky darkness. His fingers found Dom's, and he said shyly, "I didn't mean you had to let go completely."

"This is really weird," Dom said, stopping and taking a deep breath. "Sorry," he apologised, and he forced himself to smile. "I just... forgot myself. Didn't know my own strength, eh?"

Elijah laughed shortly, squeezing Dom's hand. "You were nervous, you mean." His thumb stroked Dom's palm softly. "You can be, you know. Doesn't make you any less of a man."

Dom blushed more, his eyes fixed on the dark intertwining of fingers between the two of them. "Doesn't it?" he asked, and he laughed. 

"No." Elijah replied, and didn't laugh. 

Dom bit his lip. He spent so much time speaking that half the time there was no time left for _thinking_. Most of the time he didn't even know if he meant what he said or not. All this time he'd believed that Elijah had him up on some sort of pedestal; all this time he'd believed that Elijah just saw him as the sum of various [inaccurate] perfections, and that Elijah loved him _because_ of that. It had slowly come to Dom's attention over the course of the evening that Elijah saw more of his flaws and imperfections and faults than anyone else in New Zealand—and that he continued to love Dom _despite_ his limitations and his failings. Dom wasn't sure what was worse—the realisation that he wasn't worth someone's idolatry, or the fact he'd thought he was. He sighed, frustrated with himself. He knew that he couldn't explain how he was feeling, and he knew that he didn't understand what it was that jumped in his stomach and curled in his veins. He only knew that he was scared as fuck. "I didn't mean that," he said finally, and he squeezed Elijah's hand in reassurance. 

Elijah watched him levelly for a moment, "You think I don't know that?" he said finally. 

"I don't know," Dom admitted, and it galled him to think that he couldn't pay Elijah the same respect of having noticed things about him and the way _his_ mind worked. What had he been playing at over the past few weeks? 

"Come on," Elijah said, with a smile. "I've been following you around for ages. You think I haven't picked up stuff about you by now?"

Dom grinned. "I _knew_ you'd been following me." He cuffed Elijah gently on the shoulder, deliberately trying to lighten the mood. "Weirdo." 

"Freak," Elijah retaliated, with a similar knock to Dom's arm and a laugh.

Dom felt a heady, light sense of relief as he realised that Elijah had stopped pointing out Dom's faults—even if the alternative meant that he would have a bruise on his bicep—and squeezed Elijah's hand. His hand was warm and small, and it felt... nice. [All this time as an actor, and the only emotion that Dom was able to actualise was that it was _nice_? Dom was disappointed in himself. He'd expected a _right_ or _comfortable_ or _like home_ but all he could come up with was _nice_. He'd have to concentrate more on the thinking and less on the constant verbalising of whatever was in his head in the future.] 

"Come on," Elijah said again, tugging on Dom's hand and pulling him towards the car, "It won't be worth going if we don't hurry." 

Dom grinned, unable to help himself. Shaking his head, feeling the curve and slide of Elijah's fingers against his own, he followed Elijah up the road. Elijah was hot and flickering, like flame, and Dom was beginning to feel himself smoulder at the edges. Anger and worry were slowly starting to dissipate in favour of excitement and tightly wound nervousness. "Where are we going, Lij?" he asked, smiling, "What are you up to?" 

Elijah grinned, and his eyes shone in the darkness. "Wait and see."

~

They were both quiet on the journey back into the city. Elijah had spent five minutes rooting around in the back of his car, in the pile of jumpers and coats and dog-eared script pages and CD cases that littered his back seat, in the hope of finding the mini disc he'd thrown away earlier. At first Dom had just craned his neck in confusion, trying to see what Elijah was doing and listening to him curse and swear under his breath as he searched through empty coke cans and crisp packets, but all became clear as Elijah seemed to finally find what he was looking for. Elijah's car had been nicknamed _the Spitfire_ at some point earlier in the shoot; it was noisy as hell and went like a bullet from a gun if Elijah stuck his foot to the pedal. It was also dangerous as hell - if you found your way into the back seat, there was a good chance of never being seen alive again. Orlando, in one of his more amusing moments, had scrawled 'abandon _hope all ye who enter the spitfire, for that day shall be your_ last' on an old sheet and stuck it on the back seat. It had taken Elijah over a week to notice it in the midst of all the rest of the mess. Dom grinned at the memory as they drove off, with the sounds of the Beatles' _White Album_ —Dom's favourite - pounding through Elijah's speakers.

Dom kept shooting sidelong glances in Elijah's direction, only to find Elijah doing exactly the same thing back at him. Whenever they caught each other looking, they smiled and blushed and laughed, turning away and trying to concentrate on the road. Dom was left wondering what had changed during the evening that had served to centre his gaze on this charged particle of a man. Over the past few minutes, Elijah had begun to encompass his every perception and Dom was taut with awareness of Elijah's proximity. His skin prickled with heat, and his foot tapped relentlessly in the foot well. 

As they pulled up at Dom's front door, Dom pressed his palm to Elijah's knee, saying _don't come in, I won't be a minute_. 

Elijah smiled and let his hand rest momentarily on top of Dom's. "Ok," he said, and Dom couldn't help but grin in return. 

It took Dom five minutes to find what he was looking for—a small pile of CDs that he'd been compiling over the past few weeks to open up Elijah's mind to the very worst of British culture. Elijah sporadically came out with something completely American, such as 'you _Brits are so original'_ (amongst other such gems), which to Dom's mind was practically an invitation to bombard him with tat. He'd spent his evenings downloading the PJ and Duncan back catalogue (which took forever on a 56k connection) and badgering his mum to send him over a jiffy bag with some old CDs and tapes. The result was six CDs of such overwhelming awfulness that Dom was sure Elijah would never forgive him. Dom grinned and rubbed his hands together in glee. 

He climbed back into the car still laughing to himself, and Elijah shook his head. 

"You do know it's weird, don't you, talking to yourself?" Elijah told him, his eyes shining as he held out his hands. 

"No weirder than you staring at me for weeks," Dom retaliated, grinning. "Here you go." He dropped the paper bag full of CDs onto Elijah's lap. 

Elijah waggled his eyebrows at Dom. "I thought you said you'd only made me one CD?" 

Dom shrugged, not meeting Elijah's eye. "It's one very long CD."

"Dom, there are six CDs here." To prove his point, Elijah was holding three in each hand, waving them in Dom's general direction. 

"I was on a roll. They're themed," Dom explained, picking at imaginary lint on the soft cotton of his trousers, just above his knee. His hands were hot. 

Elijah raised an eyebrow. "They might be themed. There are still _six_ of them."

"So?"

"So, this must have taken you ages."

Dom shrugged again. "It doesn't matter." His cheeks felt hot, and to curb his embarrassment, he took to staring out of the window. "Are we going soon?"

"Dom," Elijah laughed, and Dom was shocked and overwhelmingly pleased to find Elijah's hand sliding onto his knee, moving up and resting against his thigh. "Shut up."

Dom swallowed roughly, and forced himself to continue staring at the telegraph pole across the road. Elijah had shifted in his seat, inching over towards Dom. Dom could feel Elijah's increased proximity, and he could feel the shift in the atmosphere as the air tightened and he felt the soft, hot breath on his cheek from a very close Elijah. 

"Dom," Elijah said again, from somewhere next to his ear. 

"Yes?" Dom struggled for breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He rubbed his palm against his trousers; it was suddenly very hot in the car. 

Elijah let his thumb graze Dom's cheek. Dom swallowed loudly, and twisted uncomfortably in his seat so he could actually see Elijah. 

Elijah was staring at him, his eyes shining in the darkness. "Can I-" he stopped, blushing. 

"Can you what," Dom asked softly, finding himself entranced by the nervous movement of Elijah's wet mouth. 

"I-" Elijah stopped again, blinking in confusion. 

Dom smiled. He pressed his hand to Elijah's, feeling the gentle twists of nervousness in Elijah's pale skin beneath his. "Lij," he said, "Were you going to ask if you could kiss me?"

Elijah blushed a fiery red, ducking his head away. "Might have been," he muttered, under his breath. He pulled away. 

Or would have done, if Dom didn't have a tight hold of him. 

Dom's eyes searched Elijah's for a moment. His head swam, he was confused and unsure and nervous, but for the first he knew he wanted this, despite all his knowledge to the contrary about on-set romances. "Didn't know you were so chivalrous," he murmured, with a nervous grin, his fingers losing themselves in Elijah's short hair. They curled into the nape of Elijah's neck, and Dom felt Elijah's shuddered breath against his cheek. 

"Just being polite," Elijah muttered rebelliously, his breath catching in his throat. 

Dom smiled, moving closer. "I know," he said, and Elijah's face cracked into a grin. 

Elijah made to reply but Dom closed the distance between them, pressing his mouth to Elijah's. Dom felt Elijah's response in the soft vibration against his lips and the hum of words lost against Dom's open mouth. His tongue found Elijah's, and he tasted like cigarettes and cloves with a hint of peppermint from the restaurant; Elijah tasted like desperation and relief, like the bitter taste of fear tinged with the sweet taste of well-placed bravado. The kiss was both an invitation and a release. 

Pulling away a moment later, Elijah grinned, red-faced. "Does this mean we get a second date?" he asked. 

Dom shrugged. "Should think there's a good chance of that," he muttered, smiling. "Maybe even a third or fourth." He touched his lips gently, with one long finger. When he'd contemplated this evening, he'd never once thought that this would be an outcome. He'd expected pain and recriminations and maybe—against all the odds—the possibility of reaching an understanding, but he'd never considered the likelihood of them ending up here. _Here_ , pressed up against each other in Elijah's car in Dom's driveway, Elijah draped across the handbrake and Dom with his knee pressing painfully up into the glove compartment. Hardly the stuff that dreams were made of. 

Except, Dom realised, as he leaned in to kiss Elijah again, it _was_. 

"I thought we were going somewhere," Dom murmured, a few moments later, his breath coming fast and heavy against Elijah's cheek. "Won't we be late?"

"Do you want to be somewhere else?" Elijah asked, his tongue trailing wetly across Dom's lips. 

Dom kissed Elijah again. It was over all too soon. "Do I 'eck as like," he muttered, his accent suddenly broad, and Elijah raised an eyebrow. "No," Dom reiterated carefully, smiling. 

Elijah grinned. "No rush then. I was just going to take you for a walk." He ran one stubby finger down Dom's cheek, staring at him. "You've got that _look_ in your eyes again," he said finally. 

"What look?" Dom narrowed his eyes. 

"The one you get when you stare at me," Elijah said quietly. 

Dom shifted uncomfortably on his seat, shaking his head. "It isn't surprising then, is it?" he said, his fingers curling in and out of Elijah's. "Considering that I can't take my eyes off you."

Elijah's smile was bright and wide, and Dom's whole body flickered with heat. 

Dom's defences had started to crumble with just one apple-green touch just a few hours earlier; there in the darkness as the Beatles played, they collapsed and burned.

  
**.epilogue.**   


  
**.all bets are off.**   


Sean met Billy in the shadow of the trailers, early the following morning.

"Good morning," Sean said cheerfully, putting his rucksack on. 

"Shhh," Billy hissed, stifling a yawn and dragging Sean back out of the sunlight and into the shade. 

"What the-"

"Dom's just arrived and Elijah's over _there_." Billy told him. "Now watch."

Sean shook his head. "Are we spying?" he asked.

Billy grinned. "It might look like that, but really we're just officiating. Like those guys with a stop clock and the white coats at world record attempts." Elijah—dressed in an oversized hoody and dark rimmed glasses—had just climbed out of his car. Dom had just arrived, parking a few spaces over, in his usual spot underneath the giant oak. "What _are_ they playing at?" Billy asked, stepping back against the tree and shaking his head. Elijah, rather than heading straight for the hobbit trailer, was leaning against his passenger door with his arms folded, watching as Dom climbed out his car and stopped long enough to pull his scruffy rucksack off the back seat. "Why are they taking so long?" Billy asked, frustrated. 

"Perhaps because they didn't realise the were under a time constraint?" Sean added, wryly. Opening his bag, he pulled out a handful of cereal bars and offered one to Billy. 

Billy raised his eyebrow at the proffered oat and raisin bar. "Does that look like tea and a bacon sandwich?" he asked, pointedly. Sean shook his head, raising his eyebrows. "Well then," Billy sighed, "It's not breakfast, is it- oh look, Dom's moving."

"I can hardly contain my excitement," Sean said dryly, taking a bite and chewing quietly. 

"Shut up," Billy told him, pushing him, "You've got as much of a vested interest in this as I have." 

Sean smiled and shrugged. Dom was walking nonchalantly across the car park, one hand slung deep into his jeans pocket. Elijah was still leaning against his car, not moving. Dom's face wasn't giving anything away; neither of them were smiling. 

"This is it," Billy said excitedly. "I'll prove you wrong, last night will have been a disaster and then you'll owe me-" he stopped. 

Dom had started to smile. 

So had Elijah. 

Billy wrinkled his nose, watching in amazement as Dom walked straight up to Elijah, dropped his rucksack on the floor and—pressing one hand to the roof of Elijah's car—leaned in and kissed him. 

"Fuck..." Billy breathed. Elijah was kissing Dom back, leaning up and twining his fingers into Dom's hair, pressing his knee up into Dom's groin and smiling.

"Excellent." Sean grinned. "You owe me fifty dollars. Orlando owes me a hundred. That'll teach you both to be so arrogant. Now come on, before they see us."

"How did you know?" Billy asked, trailing after Sean, "Dom always said he didn't care."

Sean laughed. "Did you not _see_ how Dom looked at him?"

Billy slouched. "No." he tutted, shooting a backwards glance towards Dom and Elijah, who were pressed up against the side of the car, still kissing. "Hey," he said, brightly, "Wanna bet on which one of them is going to break and tell us first? I say Elijah..."

"You're not going to win your money back with _that_ bet, you know," Sean told him, pulling open the door to their trailer. 

Behind them, as the sun steadily climbed beyond the dawn, Dom pulled away from Elijah, breathless and pink. "Think we gave them enough of a show?" he asked. 

Elijah shrugged, his eyes wide and bright. "I don't know. I think we could give it another go, just in case they missed anything the first time."

Dom laughed, licking his lips. "I agree. I'd hate for them to not the full picture." And as Elijah kissed him, Dom found that he wasn't worrying about how he felt about Elijah anymore. It didn't matter. They'd got this far through the shoot worrying about how their feelings were affecting everybody else—their friends, their cast mates, the crew. But the rushes were good— _really_ good—and nobody had taken Dom off to one side and told him to pull his act together and stop behaving like a lovesick, lovelorn hobbit on screen. Pete had even told him he was impressed. 

"Exactly," Elijah told him, winding his arms around Dom's back. Dom shivered at the contact, pressing closer and smelling the early morning aromas of coconut shampoo and spearmint toothpaste. Already the day was brighter; the warmth of the sun slowly creeping across the set, making Dom blink and pulling at the shadows.

Dom smiled, and pulled Elijah close. 

**.the end.**


End file.
